the Courtesan's Daughter
by happychaos
Summary: Satine's birth, a little of her childhood and how she became the Sparkling Diamond. Please read and review! *complete*
1. birth of the legend

The Courtesan's Daughter  
  
*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^bonjour, mon ami! This will not be a lengthy recount of Satine's life before the Red Mill, but just a brief analogy of events. Probably, there will only be a few more parts. I hope you all enjoy this, and please don't forget to review!*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^  
  
"Goddamn you, I can't do anything if you're not doing to push!" mutters the midwife, grumpy most likely at the late hour and the fact that her pay would be very small. What does she expect from a prostitute? Most of my diamonds are cut glass.OH! Burning pain, searing pain, nothing, nothing ever ever ever OH as bad as this.I breath, pant like an animal, scarcely conscience of anything but-OH!  
  
I curse darkly and the women looks up at me, an eyebrow raised. "You gonna kiss yer child wi' that mouth?" she asks, frowning and not aware of the humor in her statement. I grin, in spite of this torturous pain, and the fact that I probably won't be able to fit my hips into my old costumes after this.I think of the man that did this to me and his facelessness. I don't even know who he is.they all blend together after awhile! It doesn't matter anyway, my daughter will be my own!  
  
Of course it will be a girl.I've grown to hate men! Their lust, their lies.false friends and fallen idols, that's all they are! I.hate.OH! Ohohohohoh!  
  
There she is, my lovely, my darling.she isn't crying, the midwife smacks her bottom. A lovely cry, ooh, just lovely.she is placed in my arms; her skin is white, pure white. Barely any hair at all, the little dearie. Her eyes are a murky brown blue- they haven't settled yet. My precious, my most precious jewel.my sparkling diamond.  
  
One of the other girls ducks in though the curtain, smiling, and gestures to hold her. A fleeting sensation of jealousy and possessiveness courses through me, but I hand my child over. Aderneth holds her gently, aware of how beautiful my daughter will be. "her skin's so soft." she whispers, pressing one of her own fingers against the babe's cheek. "Like satin." I smile. Yes, like satin.  
  
Satine.. 


	2. before shattered innocence

The Courtesan's Daughter  
  
"Satine!" I call, breathlessly. I can pull the strings no tighter.no tighter than this! My hips have widened since the birth, five years ago.where is that blasted girl?  
  
"Satine.?" I yell, the frustration seeping it's way into my voice. She appears, flapping through my cloth door and standing in the entranceway. She had been playing with Lucy, the once other child who lives in this slum, and I can tell she is eager to go back to their games. "Yes, Mama?" she asks in that clear little voice. I smile, despite myself. She is the darling of all who are here; kind, sweet, and irresistibly beautiful, no one can refuse her. Her greatest charm is that she is unaware of any charm she has! Sighing, I gesture for her to come over and tighten my corset.  
  
She cranes her head out the window and calls something in English to her playmate. I cannot speak English, and she knows this! The little devil!  
  
"What did you say, girl?" I snap, as I turn and grip the dresser as she laces up my strings. "Nothing, Mama. Only that I'd be right back" "Oh. How's the crowd tonight, darling?" I can imagine her smiling; perfectly formed lips spread into a lovely grin. "Big. And rich." I turn; she is finished.  
  
I pick her up and swing her in a circle before settling her onto my (cursedly large!) hips. "Well then, lets hope Mama can make enough money to buy you" I poke her stomach and she giggles "A new doll!" Satine lets out a gasp. "Oh, Mama, really? Really?" I laugh. "I've seen you eyeing that china- doll. We'll have to delve a bit into our savings, but I'm sure it can be managed." Her impossibly blue eyes grow wide as she throws her arms around my neck. I smile and cradle her for a moment.  
  
Zidler bursts into the door. "Aimee, were are you? The Baron wants to see you! Right away!" I sigh and put down my precious who runs over to Zidler, arms extended for a hug. He picks her up and swings her over his shoulder, up side down. She's giggling uncontrollably. I'd love to stay and play, but now.I have work to do.  
  
"Hurry, Aimee, come along!" Zidler sets the girl down and she runs away, back to her games with Lucy. I run through the halls.Baron, Baron, where's the Baron?  
  
I see him now. Frog faced, fat, and ugly like most men. Disgusting. I glance up at him shyly, through long lashed. He grins, red faced. Pasting a seductive smile, I push all thoughts of my lovely daughter out of my mind and sing huskily "Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir?" 


	3. First Kiss

The Courtesan's Daughter  
  
*^*^*^*^**^*^*^*^*^bonjour encore, mes amis! For the French-illiterate: hello again, my friends! I hope you are all enjoying this. This part's kinda fluffy ^^; I can't help it, I'm a romantic! There will only be one more part after this, probably posted later tonight or tomorrow. It's it't tonight, expect it waaaaayyyyy late, 'cause I'm going to go see the Two Towers again woohoo! Lol, enough is enough.on with the story! Oh, one more thing: Obviously, they characters aren't mine, and obviously I'm making no money. So, ah, don't sue..? Believe me, it wouldn't be worth the money.*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*  
  
She is eleven, nearly twelve and womanhood is just starting to curve her. Her legs are impossibly, gawkishly long, and her arms are of skeletal proportions but her face is like the statues of angels at the nearby cathedral and all who see her smile, in twisted lust or joy. She never notices the lust; in her innocence (innocence, that, due to her surroundings should've been terminated long ago!) she us unable to identify it in any means other than a little gnawing feeling in her stomach.  
  
She is eleven, and her voice refuses to be quiet. She hums in the hallways, chants in the corridors, sings out loud in her rooms. Her mama loves her voice, and often asks her to sing for her. Her mama is sick, from all the dancing and singing and loving, and often coughs late into the night. She only has to work four days a week now, but Satine still worries. Harold worries, too, that's why now she only works Wednesday through Saturday. Sunday's everyone's day off, but now Mama gets two more.  
  
Harold says Mama is the main attraction, and Satine knows he worries about what they will do if Mama can't work anymore. Satine dances and sings for him when he gets like this, saying she'll take her place. Then Harold laughs and Satine smiles, which she does all too rarely now.  
  
Her Mama is asking her to sing now, and Satine sings her favorite song "One day we'll fly away. Leave all this to yesterday! Let's live life from dream to dream! There will never be a day when dreaming fades."  
  
Mama smiles and motions for Satine to come closer. Mama is exhausted; it's early Sunday morning and she just got home. Satine sits on the edge of the bed and strokes her mother's hair, still singing softly. As soon as she falls asleep, Satine bends over, kisses her cheek, and runs out the door.  
  
She's a bundle of unconfined, restless energy and all people see is a peripatetic flash of red hair before she's gone. She's running, tears are falling, her voice is singing to comfort it's self. Satine cries and sobs and runs and sings. She doesn't looks where she's going, but swerves into a church.  
  
She runs right into a little boy, her age or perhaps a little older. The both fall to the cold stone floor. He has dark hair, falling softly into his startlingly blue eyes. There is such a look of astonishment on his face, Satine cannot help but laugh.  
  
"Are you an angel?" he whispers, still in awe. Satine thinks he's joking, and giggles, but stops abruptly when she sees the absolute seriousness in his eyes.  
  
She shakes her head no. "No, Monsieur, I am no angel, but the daughter of a courtesan!" The little boy, his eyes still wide, stands up and offers her a hand. She takes it and stands. Neither of them let go. "What's a courtesan? Are you a princess?" Again, Satine laughs. "No, but some call me a diamond!" The little boy bows low. "Diamonds are always the prettiest!" Satine blushes and looks down, suddenly aware of how warm his hand is. Suddenly the boy's mother calls.  
  
"Christian? Christian, come on, we're going to see the Eiffel Tower now!"  
  
Christian looks dismayed, and without thinking Satine kisses him quickly on the cheek. He turns an amazing shade of red. Gulping, he stammers "Good bye, diamond!" and, squeezing her hand, leaves. With many a backward glance, truth be told.  
  
Satine stays a little longer, cradling her hand as if it were made precious by his touch and smiling to herself. When she finally comes home, it's love songs she sings. 


	4. the day that dreaming fades

The Courtesan's Daughter  
  
*^*^*^*^**^*^*^*^*^This is the final part. It's pretty sad, so if you're in a good mood, don't read it! I'd hate to be responsible for bringing you down! Although I guess "Moulin Rouge" isn't much of a pick-me-up movie. Not after "Elephant Love Medley" anyway! ^^; I feel kind of bad writing this after reading the reviews (thanks so much, btw!), since everyone seems to think it's happy! Sorry! You all knew it had to send sad, right??? Enough of my random chattering, on with the show!*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^  
  
She's fourteen now, almost fifteen. Womanhood has claimed her body, curving it in all the right places. She's the exact picture of her mother, from her flawless skin to her flaming red hair. Except, her clear eyes are her own. Aimee cannot remember anyone, anyone at all with eyes like that, and she is sure she wouldn't have quickly forgotten then. Whoever, whatever random gene that passed them down as legacy is to remain a mystery.  
  
She's fourteen and rebellious. She loves to dance and sing, tantalizing them with flirtatious looks and sultry song. Her mama used to beg her not to, but her mama is very sick now; and Satine must dance in her place. When they come looking for the legendary Aimee; they get her daughter for the night. But Aimee still pushes Satine out of the bedroom, switching places with her at the last moment. The false love is all she has strength for now. She can only do the forbidden dance, now.  
  
But now it is unlikely she will ever dance again. There is blood on the sheets, and a light in her eyes that scares young Satine. The Count is waiting; a great patron he is and drunk enough that he may become angry. But Aimee cannot move, can do nothing but hold her daughter's hand. Her lips move, ever so slightly, and Satine puts her ear against them. "Sing for me, my precious.. my sparkling diamond." Satine smiles through her tears, pushes her hair behind her eyes and sings. Her voice is pure, clean and rings sadly. A more tragic song was never heard, nor ever one so hopeful. "One day we'll fly away."  
  
Aimee's eyes grow wide, with love and longing and a gentle freedom that is carrying her away. Satine cries. Wait, mama, don't go, don't leave me! Satine wants to cry out, but she does not. Instead she hugs her mother tight, tight, and prayers to whoever is listening to let her stay another year, month, day, hour, minute, second. She whispers in her mother's ear, sweet encouragement's and promises of another life. She feels her mother slipping away.  
  
"Mama!" She cries, and buries her head into the familiar scent of cigarette smoke, absinthe and strawberries. Mama rubs her back, soothes her.  
  
"You have a beautiful voice, darling. Sing for mummy, sometimes, when you think of me." "No, mama, don't talk like that!" Aimee laughs, and then chokes on the blood creeping from her throat. "Don't.don't waste your talent, Satine! My.sparkling diamond! You'll go far, precious. I know you will.beautiful.lovely.Satine."  
  
Aimee was gone. So was Satine. The soft, loving part of her fled to some hidden crevice of her mind, refusing to believe, refusing to feel the pain. She grips at the dead creature's hand, once, and then stands. She wipes the smeared mascara from her eyes, fans herself with a perfectly formed hand. Wipes the dust from her provocative gown, and runs to find the Count. He does not like to be kept waiting.  
  
It was her innocence that fled up to heaven with Aimee, that night. The last of it. And in its place was left the Diamond: beautiful, lovely, but cold. A voice that touched everyone but was touched by no one. Loved by many, never loving. Never touched or loved or held or anything of real value. She was admired, applauded, put on display for those who paid the price. But, she was once just a girl, a courtesan's daughter. 


End file.
